


The Vanless Network

by orphan_account



Category: Cabin Pressure, Cabinlock - Fandom, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cabinlock, Douglas Richardson/Martin Crieff a tiny tiny bit., Gen, Just a crush basically, tiny Johnlock wonderings too, you can ignore it if you like.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:21:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Martin is secretly part of the Homeless Network.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vanless Network

It was foggy. Martin hated fog. Partly because it was difficult to fly in, though he wasn't flying now. Mostly because nobody came out in the fog, which meant less money, which meant less food. He was alright for today, he thought, glancing at his carefully handwritten budget list. He wondered if he should tell the others. MJN. He considered it for a moment. Carolyn would glare, and remain stonily unmoveable on the subject of pay. Arthur would feel sorry for him, and be... helpful. He shuddered. No, he definitely didn't want Arthur's help. Douglas... what would Douglas do? He might laugh, he supposed, but somehow he doubted that. There was that side to Douglas, he didn't know what to call it. Care? Compassion, perhaps? But he almost definitely didn't feel the same way as Martin did. Did he? He just didn't know about Douglas. So it would remain a secret.  
He glanced up at the nearly deserted London street. This was alright, he supposed. He was living, and he got to fly planes. What else really mattered? So what if he got a bit cold, okay a lot cold, in winter. So what if he had had to sell the van to pay the rent, and then wasn't even able to do that? So what if he now relied on the charity of the public? So long as he got to fly planes. In some ways, this was nicer than a student house, he told himself. At least there weren't any late night parties that stopped him sleeping. Just him, and the traffic, and the fog. And- oh. Great. Sherlock. Walking down through the fog, another man at his heels. He saw him with that other man a lot recently, he wondered if... But no time to wonder, and anyway, Sherlock wasn't the type for that sort of thing. Sherlock approached him, as he knew he would, and whispered in his ear. "Write down all the buses that pass this street from 4:28 until 9:06." He took the notepad and the £20 that he was slipped, and set a timer on his old watch. Buses. Right. He earned his money counting buses for a sociopath. Yes, he was definitely keeping this a secret from Douglas.


End file.
